


Sing Me A Song If Your Hearts Still Beating

by lowlizah



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowlizah/pseuds/lowlizah
Summary: Follows Daryl through Sing Me A Song and Hearts Still Beating hence my really clever combing of the titles.
Snippet:As Negan moved past him with Carl following behind, Daryl wanted to stop him from going or call him back. Fucking kid; death had clearly kept one hand on Carl since the beginning but the damn kid kept putting himself in situations where he was essentially sticking one foot in the grave, despite history showing his foot would always wind up there just fine without his help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom and this pairing. So I hope this is okay. I know it's probably so-so as my first work so any suggestions for improvement are welcome and I urge you to please leave your thoughts and comments - love it, hate it, favorite part/line, how to improve, what I did well/badly, etc. Hopefully this doesn't suck too bad...
> 
> Not beta read, however it was read by me so many times that I don't even know if this is in English.

 

The sun beat down harshly on Daryl, his tired and sore body sweating heavily under the grimy sweats he wore. He'd been made to work placing walkers as if they were guard dogs along the fence or on spikes around the perimeter; Dwight stood nearby sipping on water and watching Daryl with a glare, no doubt angry at Daryl for not just giving in to Negan thus relegating Dwight himself to what was basically babysitting duty.

 

The supply caravan pulled in and a honk had Negan sauntering out of the compound eager to check out the goodies his Saviors brought him. He paused in his trek to watch Daryl work and toss the hunter a grin and a wink before moving on with his men to the truck that carried stuff that was mostly for him specifically, getting reports about walker herds and intel as he went.

 

While Daryl didn’t have as low opinion of himself as he used to, he didn’t get why Negan seemed to want him so badly, why he was going through so much hassle trying to break Daryl. Surely it wasn’t all about having Rick’s right-hand man under him and fuck if that wasn’t a shudder inducing thought. Thankfully, as far as Negan knew, that was all that Daryl was to Rick so why the fixation?

 

The sound of gunfire drew everyone’s attention to the truck where a couple of bodies could be seen lying on the ground. Daryl heard a voice that he desperately hoped was nothing more than a hallucination but as always hope proved useless. Seeing Dwight throw Carl down onto the ground, an automatic rifle pointed at the kid's head, broke Daryl out of the numb state he had forced himself into since the day he had been dragged to Alexandria to help the Saviors collect.

 

Any shame he probably should've felt for Carl seeing him like this paled in comparison to the disbelief that the boy could be this stupid. He could see the flare of anger burning in Carl, for all that's happened and surprisingly it seemed that seeing Daryl like this added fuel to the raging inferno; so at least maybe the kid didn't blame Daryl.

 

He ducked around a walker that lunged at him before gripping tightly to the fence again, watching Negan offer his hand to Carl. Fucking teenagers, he thought hating the helplessness that washed over him.

 

"Come on kid. I'll show you around," Negan said calmly, "You know, you do the same damn stink eye as your dad except it's only half as good because well, you know," he motioned towards his face, "you're missing an eye." Familiar psychotic smile on his face as Carl looked away towards Daryl before turning his glare back to Negan.

 

"Really? You really not gonna take my hand?" Negan asked, sarcasm dripping in his voice as anger wove into his face, "Cause you're lucky you even still have a hand." He turned and grinned at Daryl. "Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it. How's the job going Daryl? Hot enough for you? Yeah, it'd be tough with one arm."

 

Daryl grit his teeth as Negan's comments brought unwanted memories back to the forefront on his mind and he could see the moment Carl understood the threat Negan made and just took the man's hand.

 

"Smart kid; now come with me," Negan said with a smile again, "Dwighty-boy why don't'cha grab Daryl, take him into the kitchen and do a little grub prep." Negan’s men moved to carry out his commands for the unload before the man had even finished saying them. "Damn I'm not even gonna be able to screw any of my wives today," he commented off-handily before turning a wide grin at Dwight. "I mean, maybe just one."

 

Daryl could feel the grip on the back of his sweatshirt tighten as Dwight forced him forward.

 

A tray laden with food was shoved into his hands; that was the extent of food preparation he was trusted with. Smart really, that they knew not to trust him with the food they ate.

 

He let himself be led, though he knew where they were headed. Any pleasure he would have felt at the sight of Dwight's face as they walked in to Negan kissing Sherry fell by the wayside of Carl being there. Looking the kid over up close, Daryl found Carl unharmed and beginning to look like the severity of the situation he landed himself in, and had also landed Daryl in, was permeating his thick skull.

 

Negan took a grape and commanded, "Carl, you take this tray for me."

 

Carl moved forward as Daryl turned towards him, Dwight's hand still gripping tightly to the back of his shirt. 'Okay?' he mouthed to the kid who gave a nod of assurance as he took the tray.

 

"Why you got him here?" he questioned Negan, defiance lacing his tone as he stepped up to the man.

 

"Woah! What we talk about when you’re not here is none of your business," Negan glanced back at Sherry before stepping closer to Daryl, the toothpick he used on the grape held aloft tight in his gloved hand. "Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has." He smiled again staring hard into Daryl’s eyes, "You go with Dwight and get you a mop. Dwighty-boy fire up that furnace; I'll be down in a few. Time for a little déjà-vu.”

 

As Negan moved past him with Carl following behind, Daryl wanted to stop him from going or call him back. Fucking kid; death had clearly kept one hand on Carl since the beginning but the damn kid kept putting himself in situations where he was essentially sticking one foot in the grave, despite history showing his foot would always wind up there just fine without his help.

 

If he ever saw Rick again, he was gonna demand they put the teen on a leash and tie him to the porch. At least until Carl got passed the stupid teenage death wish stage of life.

 

Daryl looked at Sherry, face grim but with a new determination to not break or bend to Negan's whims. She looked like she wanted to say something, or maybe he had something to say to her, he didn't know what though, as he tried to push Dwight's hand away from grabbing him again, he knew where they were going; he didn't need to be led there like the damn dog Dwight was.

 

But Dwight shoved him through the door and down the hall; anger radiating off him in waves that almost made Daryl want to smirk.

 

A janitor mop and bucket were shoved at him as they entered a common area. A large group of the settlement was already gathered and more trickled in. The furnace was blazing making the room even hotter as Dwight stroked the flames burying an iron in the burning embers. A chair was placed in the front of the room as a guy was dragged in and lashed into the seat offering no resistance.

 

A series of clangs rang out one after the other as Negan strolled through the top landing with Carl in tow, his barbed wire wrapped bat dropping down onto the metal railing the source of the jarring noise that forced a shush over the room as its occupants dropped down to kneel. Daryl gripped the mop handle tightly as he used it to help him steady himself down onto one knee, a familiar self-loathing bubbled up inside him as it always did when he kneeled but he wasn’t breaking, he wasn’t.

 

It wasn't hard to connect the dots to what was about to go down. Dwight was gonna have a friend to share his unfortunate looks.

 

Negan handed Lucille to Carl and spoke loudly to all gathered, "You know the deal. What's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don't want to do it, I wish I could just ignore the rules but I can't. Why?"

 

His gathered congregation spoke in unison parroting the desired answer. "That’s right," Negan said as he walked down the steps. "We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world."

 

"We are the Saviors," Negan spoke in a cadence that was reminiscent of those Sunday morning television preachers, "But we can't do that without rules. Rules make it all work." His voice took on a deceptively soft tone, "I know it's not easy but there's always work. There is always a cost. Here!" He shouted fury tinging his words, "If you try to skirt it! If you try to cut that corner!"

 

Negan's cold laugh echoed in the room. "Then it's the iron for you."

 

Daryl involuntarily looked to Dwight who stood seemingly impassive to Negan's words but Daryl knew better. He knew that this was all flashback to the man. He rose to his feet using the mop to help him stand as the others stood as well.

 

Negan passed in front of him as he called to Dwight who used a metal hooked poker to pull the iron out of the furnace as his boss pulled on heat proof gloves.

 

Daryl watched Negan take the iron and step towards the bound man who remained silent, apparently knowing that it was useless to beg or plead to the madman in front of him.

 

"Mark, I'm sorry but it is what it is," Negan said with a small grin and not a hint of remorse.

 

He didn't watch, instead keeping his eyes focused on Carl watching his reaction as screams of agony overtook the sizzle and stink of flesh and hair burning. Fear and shock flashed across the kid's face as he looked to Daryl who could offer him no comfort or explanation.

 

Daryl broke their stare, feeling Carl's eyes still on him as he finally looked at the scene before them; the screams tapered off before stopping abruptly as the man finally passed out. The sound of the iron peeling away from the man's face still hissing was drowned out by Negan's chuckle, "That wasn't so bad was it?"

 

Negan gave Dwight the iron and laughed out, "Jesus, he pissed himself." The mirth the man found at the situation was almost as jarring as the act that he committed. Negan stepped up close behind Daryl and spoke into his ear no doubt relishing Carl’s expression as he towered over Daryl, "Clean that up."

 

Daryl forced the shiver that wanted to wrack his body down as he looked away from the kid to do as he was told. He hoped the kid understood the literal hell that they were in and just how precarious the situation was. Negan burned the face of his own man, a man who would no doubt remain loyal to him despite this. It was only Negan's mood that kept him from doing the same or worse to Daryl or, now, to Carl because the dumbass kid just handed himself over to the mad man.

 

Carl's face had showed shock, fear, anger and disgust. Daryl didn't bother to wonder if any of those emotions were directed at him; he just wanted the kid to realize this was about the long game, and though he sometimes doubted if they could win, Daryl knew they had no choice but to fight.

 

* * *

 

Daryl was outside working the fence again, Dwight standing off in the shade supervising him as always, when the hunter saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Cautiously looking through his peripheral he saw a familiar head peek around a truck before disappearing again.

 

Fuck if he wasn’t just a little bit happy to see that squirrely prick. His heart jack-hammered in his chest as Negan walked out with Carl headed towards that very truck with a group of Saviors following to their own vehicles to head out again.

 

"Daryl!" Negan called from the passenger side of the truck.

 

He cautiously approached and glared at the man, feeling a little sick at seeing Carl seated between Negan and a Savior chick.

 

"You seem worried," Negan said with a teasing smile. "I'm taking the kid home."

 

"If you do anything to him-" Daryl threatened, feeling a small ember of hope. Jesus knew where Negan’s base was now, so he could go back to Rick and with some luck that new information would spur their leader to fight back.

 

"Dwight! Daryl needs a time! Put him back in his box for a while," Negan ordered grinning as Daryl was forced away.

 

Daryl let his eyes look around before they trailed up to the top of the truck, nothing appeared to be there. How the fucker got up there, let alone how he remained unseen, Daryl had no idea. Not a clue then and not a one now; he really should've asked, fucking Houdini.

 

* * *

 

 

He stared at the note, considering. Was this another test? The hall was silent and he moved after only one moment longer of consideration. His bare feet were soundless on the cold floor as he moved quickly.

 

The sound of voices and glass shattering drew him up short of rounding the next corner. He moved back quickly and pushed his whole body through the nearest door that was thankfully unlocked. Shutting it with a 'click,’ he carefully listened to the arguing voices in the hall as he took in the vacant room; he pushed open a nearby door enough to peer inside the small dingy bedroom before shutting it again.

 

Daryl's eyes landed on the jar of peanut butter and he didn't think twice about snatching it up and twisting it open, using his fingers to scoop some out and into his mouth. He was starved, just barely fed enough to keep him alive and functioning but not enough to give him real strength.

 

Peanut butter, he vaguely remembered someone, maybe Carol, mentioning once so long ago, maybe when the prison had been home, was good protein. A high energy and filling food that was perfect because who knew when he'd get to eat again.

 

He snatched up a shirt and finding the smell of cheap soap on it, he put the jar down and yanked off the sweatshirt. He pulled the shirt over his head first then shoved his arms through; he turned and instantly spotted a table with tiny carved figurines. His fist clenched as realization fell over him. A hot wave of anger and hatred washed over him but he forced it down, knowing he needed a clear head because succumbing to those feelings hadn't exactly helped thus far.

 

Daryl found pants and a belt next. Grateful to be out of those sweats and steadily ignore whose clothes he wore. Next he found a suitable pair of boots followed by a plaid shirt. He could still hear voices in the hall, the same two still arguing, so he settled down with the peanut butter and a spoon. The note and key shoved safely in his pocket to be examined again at a safer time.

 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was steadfastly keeping his mind from planning too far ahead. The voices and noises died down and after waiting a few more seconds to ensure the silence wasn’t temporary, Daryl moved.

 

Tossing the spoon into the jar and onto the nearby table, he stood yanking the baseball cap off the nearby lamp and flipping the table of hand carved figurines over as a parting gift. He didn't have time to enjoy the sound of the table and figures smashing to bits as he exited the room. He navigated the halls drawing up short when he came to a room full of Saviors; he back tracked quickly and grabbed a piece of pipe lying against the hallway wall as a weapon. He swiftly made his way down the labyrinth of empty halls to the nearest exit.

 

After making sure the coast was clear, he wasted no time in going for the bike that seemed the likeliest to fit the key he had.

 

The adrenaline rushing through him probably kept him from hearing the man coming up on him, so focused on testing the key and getting the hell out of dodge, but Fat Joey's exclamation drew his attention. Daryl cautiously approached the Savior, hand tightening around the pipe he held. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, knock him out maybe.

 

"It's cool. I swear," the man motioned with his hands up trying to convey that he wasn’t a threat, "Buddy you can walk right out that back gate there and I won't say anything to anybody."

 

Daryl crept closer, his eyes locked on Negan's man.

 

"I’m supposed to be there now but - but listen," the Savior said, panic settling in, "I’m - I'm just trying to get by." He took a deep breath, "Just like you. Please."

 

Something inside him snapped and Daryl's body moved seemingly of its own accord; those words echoing in his head as he brought the pipe down on the man over and over again.

 

"Daryl."

 

He looked up, at seeing a familiar face his mind snapped back, and he let himself look back down at what he had done; another threat to him and his family dead at his feet by his hands. His eyes were drawn to the familiar gun as if it had been calling to him; he tossed the pipe and reclaimed the gun muttering through panted breaths, "It ain't jus' about gettin' by here. It's about gettin' it all." He turned back around climbing onto the bike and walking it back. "I got the key. Let's go."

 

They managed to escape without detection with Jesus directing Daryl where to go. The bike had enough gas to get within a few miles of Hilltop before they had to abandon it. After making sure it was well hidden, they continued their journey on foot.

 

Conversation was minimal with Jesus asking if Daryl was okay every few minutes and questions about what information he might have gleamed from his captivity. They finally reached the gates and Daryl vaguely heard a scream as the gates were drawn open and they walked through.

 

Next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Sasha; the fog and white noise that had settled over his mind since leaving the compound cleared. She walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug that he returned without a second thought. "You okay?" he asked, needing to know.

 

"I'll live. You?" she asked pulling back with a grin.

 

"I'll live," he responded back with a small smile.

 

"Daryl?"

 

His head jerked up and tears filled his eyes. "M-Maggie?"

 

He began doubting if any of this was real. Maybe it was all a dream and he was still in the cell. Maybe they'd broken him and this was all in his mind. Maybe this was the illusion of a dying man.

 

Maggie approached him cautiously as if she was afraid to spook him rather than afraid of him. Sasha smiling softly moved away to give them room.

 

"You're alive?" he asked in a whisper.

 

Tears fell from her eyes, "I think that should be my line." When she was close enough, she yanked him to her as sobs began to wrack his body and hers. "Ssshhh," she coo-ed holding him in a tight hug and rubbing his back. "I was afraid I'd never see you again," she said, her voice cracking with choked sobs.

 

"I’m sorry - I'm sorry. It's my fault! I'm sorry - I'm so sorry," he whimpered nonstop as his body trembled and they fell to their knees in the dirt. "Glenn! Your baby! I'm sorry Mags it's my fault!"

 

"I'm fine. Baby's fine," she whispered brushing his hair away and kissing his forehead. "You listen to me Daryl Dixon," she said firmly with tears rolling down her cheeks, "It's not your fault. There's nothing to forgive. It's not on you okay? It's on HIM. HE did this." She cupped his face and thumbed away his tears. "If you really feel like you owe me or Glenn than you do what you've been doing, you hear? You fight and keep fighting until Negan's dead. And then you be the best damn uncle a kid could hope for."

 

They held onto each other until the tears ran out, then stood together taking deep breaths to try to calm themselves. "You should clean up. I'm pregnant; my nose is really sensitive and you're makin' me wanna puke," she said wiping away her tears with a smile. "We need to get the doctor to look at you and get you something to eat."

 

Daryl huffed out a laugh and ducked his head, "Got that motherin' thing down already."

 

"Make sure to wash behind your ears," Maggie teased back.

 

The shower felt more amazing than it really should have. Daryl scrubbed his body pink before letting the hot water fall over him, soothing sore and aching muscles. He followed that with another thorough scrubbing before finally exiting the steaming shower smelling of coconut and vanilla. He brushed his teeth and had just started getting dressed when Jesus knocked on the door and told him there was something at the gate he needed to see.

 

To be honest, the last thing he expected to see when he rounded that corner was Rick and his family. He had forced himself back into a semi-numb mindset after that emotional breakdown with Maggie, figuring it'd be easier to work all the emotions and thoughts of the day and his captivity out later, or maybe never if he had luck. He felt exhausted mentally and physically. His nerves were frayed so thin that he was liable to shatter, so as he exited the trailer his only thought was whatever was going on he needed it to be over quickly so he could duck behind a locked door until he could no longer be compared to fragile glass. He snapped once today already back at the compound when he killed Fat Joey then with that sob-fest with Maggie, he honestly didn't know if he had any more emotions in him having gone from one end of the spectrum to the other in a matter of hours.

 

Then he saw Rick and fuck if he didn't feel himself start shaking, as his stomach knotted and his heart felt like it was in a vice. Wouldn't it just be fucking great if he just died right now of heart failure or something?

 

Rick walked up to him as if he was afraid that Daryl was nothing more than a mirage that would disappear when he got too close. Daryl ducked his head and hid behind his hair as more tears sprung forth. Seriously! How could he still have tears? How could he still be able to cry? He was certain he'd cried more in the last few hours than in his entire life.

 

His arms wrapped tightly around Rick as he buried his face into Rick's neck, his hands gripping the man's shirt so tightly he was probably pinching the skin beneath. He breathed Rick's scent in, letting it fill his lungs to capacity only to come out in short sobs. Simply wanting to enjoy the feel of the man that he thought he'd never see again. He could feel the dam he built up to keep himself from feeling and thinking about everything that's happened threatening to shatter, but it couldn't break yet. He needed to hold it together just a little longer.

 

Rick held him like he was afraid that if he loosened his hold Daryl would disappear, like he still wasn't sure if Daryl was real, like if he slackened his hold just a little Daryl would be taken again. Or maybe if he held on tighter he and Daryl could become one, never to separate again.

 

"You're okay? You're safe? God Daryl," Rick whispered into his ear, taking deep breaths. "Don't leave me; I need you." Another shaky inhale before he whispered, "I love you. I love you so much," and a kiss pressed to Daryl's temple. "It's really you."

 

"I'm here," Daryl answered, "Don't let go Rick; please don't let me go."

 

Eventually they did have to part, and Daryl was quickly hugged by Tara then Michonne, who carefully examined his bruised face in anger and relief. Rick's eyes never leaving him, still not trusting this wasn't all a hoax. Daryl could see as he stared at Rick that the man was no longer the husk of a man that he had been. No, Rick Grimes was ready to fight and lead them down the war path. Reaching back, Daryl's hand curled around the metal gun warmed by his body. He pulled it around in a fluid motion and held it out to his leader. He could see the shuddering breath as it exited Rick's body at seeing the familiar Colt Python.

 

He looked at the gun like he looked at Daryl, as if they'd both vanish into smoke in seconds. Not even holding either seemed to have proven that gun and man were in fact solid, real and there. Muscle memory took over once the familiar weight was in Rick's hand as he popped the cylinder to see all the chambers loaded before Rick spun on his heel to head toward Barrington House, Daryl followed on Rick's right side.

 

That night, after they spoke with the Hilltop citizens and Gregory about their next course of action, Rick reveled in the feeling of determination and purpose that filled him as he looked over his people. They were all in the trailer Jesus shared with Sasha and Maggie. They shared a meal of chicken noodle soup and bread, with a bit of apple pie for dessert. The plan was to head for the Kingdom at first light with Maggie, Carl and Enid remaining at Hilltop. With luck, they'd be back in Alexandria within the day with a plan in motion to take out Negan and the Saviors.

 

They all full prepared themselves for the hell that would be headed their way upon Negan discovering Daryl missing. Though Negan had Eugene, they were operating under the presumption that the man wouldn't hurt someone that was a highly valuable asset to him.

 

Daryl had surprising called it an early night and gone to bed when Maggie did, though at that point everyone could see the man was barely awake. Jesus had insisted Daryl, and thus Rick, have his bed while he and Carl took the floor of the bedroom. Maggie and Sasha had their own shared room which left the living room/kitchen area to Michonne, Tara and Rosita with a shared air mattress that Jesus had dug out from storage somewhere on the compound and Enid in a recliner.

 

Rick tugged off his shirt, belt, boots and socks then sat upon the bed taking a moment to look at Daryl's sleeping form. Jesus and Carl were asleep before their heads even hit their pillows, no doubt assuming safety was guaranteed in a room that Rick and Daryl both occupied. The hunter was curled up tightly, blankets kicked away and the infamous note sticking halfway out of his back pocket. The mysterious sender was still unknown but hopefully an ally in the coming war though they weren't counting on it.

 

Rick reached down and tugged the blankets up as he slipped in.

 

"Rick."

 

Rick moved closer as Daryl rolled over to face him. Their hands curled around each other and Daryl stared at Rick with tired, sad eyes.

 

"You have to stop blaming yourself," Rick whispered, squeezing Daryl's hand.

 

"'s kinda my fault. Actions have consequences."

 

"It ain't, not even a little bit; it's Negan's. Just like Rosita didn't kill Olivia, Negan's bitch did. Y'all attacked after they had you and the people you love, backed into a corner. No one blames you because you have no blame," Rick said holding Daryl's hand in both of his and pressing it to his chest. "And really, that argument only works if you had knowledge of the possible consequences before you took the action; can only account for so many variables Dar."

 

"I punched him and he killed Glenn; 's simple."

 

"No. You think you gave him a reason but you didn't, cause he never needs a reason. He could've killed Glenn regardless of what you or anyone else did. You're trying to put rhyme and reason to the actions of a madman Daryl," Rick implored as he pressed a kiss to the man's hand. He huffed out a small laugh, "You, Rosita, Sasha, Maggie, Carl, and Michonne - all of y'all were right to want to fight. I was wrong; I was scared cause he killed our people and he had you."

 

"Not scared now," Daryl said softly. "You're ready to go to war now. Came here, ready to fight and for all you knew, he still had me."

 

"Priority was gonna be getting you out; Carl knew the way," Rick sighed and continued, "He told me what he saw, told me about you. He said you didn't give in to Negan even though it would've made your life easier; you were fighting the only way you could so what right did I have not to fight too? And then, he was in our house. Negan held Judith and I knew, whether he had you or not, that you'd rather die than let your Lil' Asskicker grow up with that monster in charge."

 

"Damn right," Daryl said squeezing Rick's hand. "We'll win together or we'll die together. He got nothing but enemies and he can't kill us all, needs us too much."

 

Rick kissed Daryl's hand again and trailed a hand up Daryl's wrist to his shoulder. "Can skip some steps now too cause you're back, safe in my arms," he pressed closer to Daryl and kissed his lips softly. "I wanna ask what happened when he had you but I know you ain't ready to talk so, I love you and I'm here when you're ready."

 

"Wasn't fighting, not really. Was just doin the minimum of what they asked to keep'em interested. Knew it really didn't matter; like you said they'd hurt me regardless of if I gave'em a reason or not," Daryl tangled their legs together, "Wanna tell you everything but not tonight; just wanna sleep next to you. Forget for a little while." He closed his eyes and kept one hand holding Rick's while his other hand settled on the man's hip.

 

Rick continued to rub Daryl's arm and shoulder, "Sleep. I'm here."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still hella curious about who gave Daryl the note and key. I think it was Sherry and I hope it gets addressed cause if not it will irk me to my grave. And does anyone else need the conversation Rick had with Carl about his boneheaded adventure and how badly it could have gone for everyone?


End file.
